I Want To Trust No One
by marthasville
Summary: Based on the 2nd Movie. One of their famous old cases, a MOTW is connected to the disappearance of FBI agents. Mulder gets closer to redeeming his career while Scully's heart is heading a different path.
1. 1 A Special Case

Disclaimer: I do not own the fantastic turn-of-the-twenty-first century heroes, Mulder and Scully, Chris Carter and 1013 Productions do, and I am in no way wanting any financial gain by writing this fanfic. In no way! With that clarified. Here is a synopsis.

This story takes bits and pieces of the second movie, and I hope my writing can accomplish the urgency of the FBI that compels them to turn to the discredited agents. I strongly felt the case needed to be a little more mysterious, more anomalous than a normal CSI case. There had to be an undeniable X-File connection, and there had to be more obstacles preventing them from returning to their old life, putting them at greater odds against each other. Tell me what you think. Here goes……..

I Want To Trust No One

1 A Special Case

The long drive back to his home helped him to ponder whether he was going to tell her about his latest sighting. It was farthest from alien to him in many respects as this new quest he had recently taken on was firmly attached to his heart, not only through emotions but through DNA. The glory days were over, and the expensive, unimaginative suits hung up to collect dust in the closet, and so it also seemed grooming instruments such as combs and razors. He struggled to keep from dwelling about the past, his lone quest, and to keep sight of the present with the thought of her as a reason for it all hoping it could comfort him a great deal. She made him feel that those days were all real, though he could never break any of the cases with hard concrete proof, as elusive as a recurring dream, a dream he didn't want to wake up from. But even when he eventually did awaken, he was most fortunate in having the voice of reason also as the keeper of his dreams. He grew excited at the thought of coming home to her.

But short a few minutes before reaching the last stretch of road that would take him to their unremarkable abode, he knew he couldn't tell her about this one yet. He knew Scully too well to believe anything out right, and he wasn't willing to convince her otherwise. If it was emotionally draining for him, which would explain his decision not to proceed, how much more would it be for her?

What he had been doing for the past six years was send anonymous letters to police precincts all over the nation, offering profiling tips in hopes of breaking cold case files, to recent ones. As much use as the Lone Gunmen could've been to him, any contact with them, would send red flags out to the FBI. He knew that from his first and last experience while still in New Mexico. He was able to establish an underground network through Gibson Praise's Navajo contacts, who kept a small-scale computer lab which Mulder was able to upgrade while they harbored him there.

She was home early, and he had just returned from a two-week stay at Camp Broken Radar, gathering more information to disseminate to his law enforcement contacts. Among his data collection were of missing kids. He was being covertly contacted by way of the "X" tape only now in the initials "JFK" by a detective, whose tenacity and unconventional methods reminded him of someone in his glory days. One child that had gone missing was the son of the Governor of Virginia. He discovered that Governor Arthur Todd's son was adopted and with a little further digging, made another discovery that this was the child's second time to be adopted. The first couple had mysteriously died in their small farm house.

"Mulder, you just got back, and you are suddenly so trusting leaving the doors unlocked," she reprimanded.

"Being transported in the back of an eighteen-wheeler for one week can give you claustrophobic tendencies and an acute case of incontinence, hence the open doors including this one," he explained without turning to look at her, gathering all the "missing child" reports and piling it into one folder.

Up until this point she didn't know whether her meeting with Agent Drummy excited her or terrified her. She wanted to let Mulder be the judge as she relayed the message.

"I was visited by the FBI, today, Mulder. They are willing to drop all charges if you come out and assist in a case that involves the deaths of several agents, who they have new reason to believe are all connected.

He turned around, and surprised her with how fast he developed a scruffy beard in two weeks.

"They want my help to find dead agents, when that's what they wanted me to be all these years."

She knew now, it had to be her to put things in the right perspective here.

"Mulder. There's a new order now. There's a greater threat to the nation, than what we've been ranting about all those years. It's real and it's an invasion that's already happening. They are giving back to you the years they took."

"Well, I deserve more than that," he protested.

"Then you and I both know how many war veterans feel. Some of them never received the justice they deserved. The truth is I worry about you, Mulder. Living in isolation was one long-standing reason and now it's the new development of disorders."

There was silence and the same famous stone-faced expression displayed on his face.

Scully broke it with, "Okay, I'll call them off."

"Wait! I'll go on one condition."

The helicopter dropped them off, and soon they were walking the same old familiar halls, which smelled and looked the same with the exception of the frame of the President. Both looked at each other and remembered Scully's previous statement, "A new order….." being an X-file in itself.

They entered a room filled with younger, busy yet clueless FBI Agents, many not familiar with Mulder's notoriety.

Agent Whitney came up to them and introduced herself. She gave Mulder a lingering look of admiration.

"So is there a suspect?" Scully asked.

"He should be, but he doesn't fit the profile," the agent whetted, and handed them a folder on Mr. Peter Spell. The photo inside pretty much summed up why. He was a double amputee from the elbows down.

"He couldn't commit those acts without his arms, but many amputees develop full dexterity of their feet," Mulder surmised.

"Mulder," Scully added, continuing to read the report, "that wouldn't be possible in his case. Those were amputated too."

"Look," Agent Whitney hastily debriefed, "this individual has been institutionalized all his life. The only time he has travelled was to receive surgery in hopes of saving his limbs. His doctors all agreed it was a success, but not to Mr. Spell. He tried everything and anything to remove the transplanted limbs."

Mulder quickly deduced the obvious, "and apparently he did," and glanced at Scully who looked up from the report.

"And what's the connection to him and the Agents?" Mulder asked.

Scully answered based on the reports, "Each limb belonged to four different agents, who had the same blood type as Mr. Spell."

"Who's the surgeon? Was he questioned?" Mulder asked.

"That's where the case begins. There were a team of visiting doctors from different parts of Europe, who did the operation on him. They're missing and there's no record of them leaving the country."

"I'm guessing you called me here, because this urgent case doesn't only involve the FBI, but because there might be a tinge to it. An x-file tinge."

He said the word, and it was as if a match was lit for a trick candle inside Mulder. His sparks were always a nuisance to kill.

"Well, we should jump in bed with this guy if we want to find anything out."

The room suddenly stood still, and the only sound heard were Scully's stiletto heels tapping closer to Mulder as she again reported,

"That wouldn't be a good idea, considering he has Paucibacillary Hansen's Disease otherwise known as tuberculoid leprosy."

His spark was now a fuse on a string as he looked at Agent Whitney and asked, "Is there any way to question him, via telephone? Reach out and touch someone. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

Agent Whitney warned, "We can take you there, to his hospital, and his special room."

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

After receiving special clearance to enter the infirmary ward, there was still a distance before they got to the quarantine section. Mulder noticed Scully's preoccupation with her watch.

"Scully, you need to be some place?"

She answered, "I wanted to do a little more research on my patient's condition. I sensed a divided room of my peers when I expressed the need to perform an aggressive course of treatment."

"Well, you know how to bite the bullet. Don't forget that's why we're here too."

"I see it all over again, Mulder. A path with no rocks left unturned."

"I'm just going to ask questions. I have something that'll help them out. Trust me Scully, I've been working on this. I didn't want to say anything until now, but it helps people. It helps find people."

She was going to ask what it was, but she was awestruck at what she saw across the plastic glass dividing the two rooms. Mr. Spell was wheeled into the room, and Scully recalled reading his age to be thirty-five, but the figure before her looked like an eighty year old man.

"Mr. Spell, I'm Ag-, Dr. Scully, and we're here to ask you a few questions.."

He answered, with slurred speech, "Have we met before? Your hair was shorter though. I remember hearing sirens. In an ambulance? No! I think it was the sound of dogs. Dogs were barking, or it sounded more like cats."

Scully interrupted, "Maybe what you saw was one of the team of doctors who had taken you."

"No. I'm sure it was a while ago. So are you going to find these doctors who played this sadistic prank on me? I had nightmares of women screaming in my head, of men grabbing my hands and feet, and when I'd wake up the pain would still be there. The doctors here say that it's quite normal to have those dreams. Many transplant patients do. They say it's a psychological stage I have to hurdle over."

Suddenly Mulder jumped in, "Did you see doctors? Did you see them in your dreams?"

"Who are you? A secret agent pulled from a covert mission?" Spell asked, observing his scraggly beard.

"An unbelievably long one. Doctors, are they in your dream?" Mulder persisted.

"Yes."

"The one who operated on you, was he part of that visiting team?" Mulder asked.

"No. I heard a voice. It was speaking a different language—Russian or German, I can't tell. I felt like I was in a classroom. HHe was giving directions with every step. At first I was happy to get the transplant. I could feel again. I could write, but then the pain, the spasms and the dreams were too much. I told my doctors but they just kept giving me painkillers, It didn't help at all. Terrible things happened to those people, and it was passed on to me, until I did something. You can't imagine the relief, although I'm back to where I started. Again, I'm back to feeling nothing."

He shares this with everyone, but only looks at Scully, asking,

"Dr. Scully, did you come to help me? Or did you come just like the others using my name on their medical journals, picking and choosing which freak they'd want to help to put them in the Annals of Medicine?"

"Frankly, no. I'm not here to help you. Though your misfortune causes you enough pain to lash it out on everyone you meet, you have survived. I'm here for the four who didn't."

"How do you know they're dead?" Spell posed.

Scully just looked at him, not wanting to hurt the case by losing her temper. She felt definitely out of practice. She stood up and excused herself.

"Where are you going?" Mulder asked before she opened the door. Agent Whitney was right beside Mulder waiting for an answer too.

"It's better if I speak with the doctors. He sees me as an enemy. Maybe, I can get answers from the doctors."

"The doctors aren't any friendlier," Agent Whitney informed them, "Spell has a lawsuit against them, which complicates the case further. The only way it can be done is to set something up with their attorneys."

"You need to get that taken care of tonight. The clock is ticking now that he's given us a glimpse of hope in finding the agents," Mulder ordered.

Both women looked at him, following his lead—the only one.


	2. 2 Old Acquaintances

2 Old Acquaintances

"Speak to me Peter. What makes you think they are alive?" Mulder returned to him as the two women remained by the door.

"I survived! Without limbs. I know what is going through their mind. If they were dead, there'd be peace, but that's not what I felt."

Mulder and Agent Whitney had left the room, but before Scully made it out he called out, "Dr. Scully. Don't give up."

Scully's thoughts focused only on getting out of there, and felt relieved when she finally got to meet with Peter's doctors.

"You may answer that," the lawyer instructed the doctor.

"Peter had been with us since after his grandmother died. She lived in a trailer and with the same disease. We believe he contracted the disease from her, and it lay dormant up until she died. He was twelve years old."

"What about the operation? Was this something the hospital recommended he undergo?" Scully asked.

The lawyer answered, "That cannot be discussed at this time. The FBI already knows that."

"Describe his personality, then Doctor," Scully responded.

"He cannot discuss that either," the lawyer repeated.

"Can he describe the nature of his disease?" she asked, and the lawyer nodded.

"He has a rare and severe form of leprosy that only affects his extremities. He's perfectly healthy on the inside, but the disease that afflicts him does not react to treatment."

Treatment that basically eradicated the disease.

"Over time, we could do nothing but observe the deterioration of his arm and feet. He lost feeling and sensation well before that. His flesh would harden and become brittle, then it would crumble like a cookie to the floor, and he wouldn't even know it. The procedure to amputate his limbs was the only course of treatment which successfully stopped the infection on his limbs. Now the affected area is limited to his face."

"Can you tell us, what was your medical diagnosis for the severe adverse reaction of the patient, to remove the newly transplanted limbs?" she asked.

"I didn't make the diagnosis at that point," the doctor answered, and the lawyer added.

"All employees of the hospital cannot divulge any information about this case until the civil suit has been settled."

They were about to stand when Mulder quickly asked, "Did he exhibit different personalities with the transplanted limbs?"

"Don't answer that," the lawyer commanded, but the doctor's expression had already given it away. He continued, "We'd love to help the patient if he'd only drop this lawsuit, but I'm afraid, he's tied our hands on this."

After dropping off their ID cards with security, Mulder still lingered by the front desk.

"What is it, Mulder?" Scully asked.

He turned to the security guard, and asked.

"How long have you worked here?"

"About fifteen years," the guard answered, drinking his graveyard shift coffee, its strength Mulder could smell in his breath.

"It's a stable job, right. Nothing really happens here?" Mulder assumed.

"I wouldn't say that, but then I'm not going to say anything else. I just saw our lawyer here."

"Oh no. This has nothing to do with the case and Mr. Spell. I'm just wondering what the turn-over rate is like in this wing."

"Everyone's been here a while. The only thing that changes are the doctors. Once their residency is up, they split."

"It's understandable. Mr. Spell is a tough shell to break," Mulder humored.

The guard chuckled as Mulder went on his way ushering the ladies out quickly.

"Agent Whitney, have you thought about obtaining files the old fashioned FBI way?"

"If you're talking about in the dark with a pocket flashlight, yes, we have."

"No, I'm talking about an audit."

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

He requested Leyla Harrison be assigned this task because of her accounting expertise and being well-referenced to detect X-file undertones.

Scully hadn't slept yet, but worked her shift at the hospital. She ended her rounds with Christian.

"How are you today?" she asked, wondering how often she asked him that, recalling Spell's accusation.

"Better now," he weakly but enthusiastically answered, "I just know you're trying to help me, but do you think I can handle it? My mom and dad want to know if I can, but I told them that you would know."

"Well, Christian, whenever someone comes across a difficult situation, that's usually when they find out if they can. What increases a person's ability to handle things is preparing for the challenge ahead, physically, mentally and emotionally." She calmly reasoned.

"I think you're the only one on my side. Other doctors came by to speak to my parents. They made them sad and confused." Christian informed her.

Scully was shocked at first, but knew this might happen. After leaving Christian's room she headed straight to the Pastor's office, but bumped into Dr. Glass, a tall salt and pepper bearded man, in the hall.

"Dr. Scully," he uttered, as she almost passed him. He quickly held her arm, causing her to ease her growing temper.

"I need to see Ybarra…"

"Before you do. I need to talk to you about the Fearon's son," Dr. Glass released her arm when he was sure, she wouldn't walk off.

"I have a problem with someone assigning other doctors to look into my patient…" she snapped.

"I asked him, after the meeting. The way you stood up to him, I figured you had something. I always had a feeling that you could bring something more to this hospital when you first came. There was something about your stern eyes. Sometimes many are stuck at looking at a hopeless world, others make real hope possible, and that's what I saw."

He saw how that softened her demeanor. They had coffee together at the cafeteria hospital.

"Just say the word, Dr. Scully, and I can have him here. He's a world-renowned neurosurgeon who I interned under in Chicago. We've kept in touch all these years, especially during the time my wife was undergoing treatment."

"I'm sorry about your wife. I've seen the wing dedicated to her," Scully uncomfortably expressed.

"It's been eight years, and I put our two kids through college. Yet everyday feels like I lost her all over again, except until yesterday morning." He expressed with a far away look in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Scully asked, cupping her coffee cup before taking a sip.

"I went to the ends of the earth to search for a cure for her, and it took me to this hospital. But I was too late. She was too weak to undergo any surgery, and she slipped away. Then there became so many reasons why I couldn't leave this place. Guilt was one. Fear, then guilt again. Before she was sick, she used to have this fire in her eyes, just like in yours. It made me take a good look at the patient, this child ."

Even with his heartfelt confession to her, she still had an uneasy feeling. Call it territorial as she had always been with those close to her heart. She felt so strongly against accepting any assistance from him. She didn't know what to make of it, and tormented herself by thinking she was being selfish for professional reasons instead of humane reasons.

She took the baggage home and had gone on a full day without sleep.

"I feel you thinking," Mulder said from behind her.

"I'm sorry. I can't sleep," she apologized and in an instant Mulder spooned behind her.

"Well, I have a little something for that," he offered, but she bemused him,

"Just a little something?"

"Thank you. What's the matter?" he asked pressing his lips against her cheek.

"There's this patient, a boy with a rare brain disease."

"You never told me about this one before."

"We thought there was nothing we could do for him. The only hope would be for radical treatment, but the hospital adminstrators are in disagreement about this. In the meantime the boy's life is hanging by a string."

"How old is this boy?" Mulder aksed.

"You think its because of William?"

"Oh Honey. I think it's a void in us that'll never be filled."

"I just don't understand the position I'm taking on this. I want to save his life but I don't

want to put my trust in anyone in that hospital."

"Go to sleep Scully, and leave trust issues with me. The hospital is not the FBI headquarters."

"Thank you," Scully answered and quickly closed her eyes, but not for more than five seconds. She opened them as her cellphone rang.

On the other end was Agent Leyla Harrison. Scully activate her speakerphone.

"I found something. A medical receipt for five cases of iodine. That's what caught my attention. It might've been signed by one of the visiting doctors. I'm having the FBI Lab test for fingerprints. I cross-checked those employed at that time and found a connection to the iodine."

Mulder answered, " Is it appropriate to bet on this? The operative word being Betts?"

"Like always Agent, I mean Mr. Mulder, you're right on the money, Leonard Betts was in the building," said Leyla.

"I'm going back there," he replied and hung up the phone

He shot up, threw the blanket to the side, and darted for the bathroom, Scully in tow.

"What are you doing Mulder?"

"Scully, Leonard Betts is dead," he informed her as if she had forgotten.

"I know Mulder. He was cremated."


	3. 3 Looking Into DANA

3 Looking Into DANA

Scully watched him take the razor and shave away.

"I take it back, Scully. Even hospitals have their dirty little secrets. There were so many things going on back then, especially with you Scully, that it didn't dawn on me until now. Who would destroy such a marvelous scientific anomaly as Leonard Betts? Would you Dr. Scully having the prospects of limb regeneration in your hands?"

His revelation hit her hard, but not about the things he mentioned, but what Leonard Betts meant to her. That moment felt like life had come full circle for her—all the events happening all at once to challenge them in every direction.

She returned to bed, and Mulder was taken aback.

"You're not coming?"

"This isn't what I do anymore Mulder. I can't lose more sleep. I have a job to do in the morning…."

"Is there something more?" Mulder asked, keenly sensing the shakiness in her voice.

"What he told me changed my life…"

She didn't need to say more. Mulder scooped her up as he sat on the bed beside her and held her tight, hoping to assure her,

"And in some weird way, what he detected gave you time to fight the cancer."

A tear streamed down her face. He released her, gently wiped her face with his thumb and kissed her forehead before getting up to leave.

Mulder pressed a photo against the glass divider and quickly asked the patient sitting on the other side. A room that might as well feel like another world.

"What do you know about Leonard Betts, an orderly who worked here a while ago?"

Spell was groggy and took a while to answer him. "Not much. He just kept saying sorry for what happened to me. He was the only one who ever touched me with his bare hands. He wanted to shake my hand. I forgot how normal skin felt. He was a very compassionate man. I could tell by the intensity in his eyes—like he could relate to my pain."

"Has he visited you since then?" Mulder asked, while Agent Whitney stood beside him with her hands on her hips.

"Yeah. He was part of the transport team when they sent me to get operated. He told me they'd help me just like they helped him." There was a melancholy in his voice. Mulder detected, he was deeply affected by Betts' heroic deed—a medical vigilante.

Mulder turned to Agent Whitney, and she was on the phone in an instant. In a few minutes the FBI had released the Most Wanted list for Leonard Betts.

They headed back to the FBI Headquarters, where Mulder quickly situated himself by claiming a computer station, fastidiously making connections. He explained to Agent Whitney,

"This is what I've been developing during my six-year hiatus. This is a software program that automatically sorts data by a simple method of compare and contrast. You start with entering the stats of the victim and all information collected from the investigation. It creates categories and sorts them to find similarities. It's helped my contacts close cases. What we're going to need is a team to enter data and since time is short, I'm going to enlist trained experts—some of the guys who helped develop this. In the mean time, your men can download this and transfer what they've got so far. I'll have my lawyers come by to discuss my royalty fees later should the FBI find this useful, and I hope they do."

Agent Whitney was so impressed, "So that's what all the talk was about. I could understand why the agents poked fun. They couldn't come close."

Agent Drummy thought differently, "We've got all the manpower you need here. We can't pull resources we don't have any background on and let alone give them our information. Agent Whitney, with all due respect, you're witnessing what made Agent Mulder's notorious reputation. He never trusted the FBI."

"Well, maybe they should've! Now, Agent Mulder, I need to report this to the Assistant Director. What do you call this software and where have you used it before? Agent Drummy is right. If it checks out, I'll make sure it's under your conditions. So give me your contact."

"Detective Steve Collier with the Georgetown PD."

They checked on the detective, and within minutes, Agent Drummy returned.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

Looking a little disappointed to deliver the good news, Agent Drummy reported, "It's a go. It all checks out."

Agent Whitney was on the phone, reporting to the A.D. then turned back to ask Mulder, "What is this software called?"

"Uhh, it's called Inquisition of Criminal Data Analysis Networking Aggregate."

Before she could repeat it, he simply put it as, "otherwise known to me as I C DANA."

Agent Whitney repeated what he originally called it.

At the other end of the hallway Scully could see the Fearons talking to Ybarra. She was curious to know what the conversation was about so she picked up her pace.

"Good Morning," she said startling only Ybarra.

"Good morning, Dr. Scully he said louder. I was just asking the family if agreeing to go through with this procedure was their final position before seeking further opinion."

Mr. Fearon spoke up, "We just don't want to put him through anymore pain."

Mrs. Fearon added, "If you were a mother you would understand. You wouldn't want your child to suffer any more than he already has."

Scully's eyes reddened from the emotions welling up inside her. There was anger that wanted to burst out and yell to everyone how much more she knew about pain and the loss of a child, who wasn't possible. Her first and only, who was not taken by the imminent clutches of death, but given up so that he might escape what her complicated, vengeful-entangled career had forsaken upon them. Then a calm came over her, shortly after, finding true understanding of the situation that kept it all at bay. The only treatment she could administer to Christian was just to keep him comfortable until the inevitable end.

The fugitive had been sighted and the two Agents, Whitney and Drummy, quickly drove to the area, while Mulder sat in the back seat studying the report given by IC DANA. It blinked! An indication that a connection was made. The victims, the FBI Agents, all had gone to doctors, had been further referred to an oncologist. His mind was starting to process, making the usual dangerous leaps to solve a case. He wanted to ditch this current lead since everyone was on it and pursue this new one coming to a conclusion that he would find the real culprit, a surgeon with a lot of motivation to stitch together human pieces and parts to other humans.

"We've got all law enforcements on this guy?" he asked.

"Officers and our guys, they're ready to apprehend him,' Drummy reported.

"Tell them to back off," Mulder ordered.

"What?" Drummy shouted.

Agent Whitney wanted to hear an explanation, wanting to believe he had good reason to say that. Mulder did so.

"He's a means to an end. It's the doctors we need to find. Who knows how many people they've worked on already? We need him to lead us to them."

"Agent Whitney, it's your call to report this to A.D.," Agent Drummy stated.

There was a lot of pressure to impress the FBI and an Agent she looked up to with great admiration, but it was her teachings at the Academy that guided her to make this decision.

"Let them proceed."

As soon as they were about to enter the building, Agent Whitney kept Mulder back and said to him,

"I read your files, and each time you've had to make leaps to get close to something. We don't have to do it in this case. We have the guy. I am confident we're going to find them. I'm handing this guy to you to give you the proof you always needed. To have the first X-File solved. You lead us to him."

At this given moment, this would change the course of the Bureau, the little daprtment that lay hidden in the basement. This case would have him reinstated and promoted. He would finally receive the honor and respect, all his hard work deserved. It would be a breakthrough in medical history, and Scully a huge part of it. But just one thought couldn't escape from his mind. Call it a hunch, and at that moment he had a dangerous one.

"And I'm telling you he's not the guy," Mulder insisted.

"Even if he isn't this will help the X-files and you'll win this time."

Suddenly they heard a commotion, and all went pitch-black.

"Someone cut the power lines to the entire apartment building," Drummy reported.

"Run a perimeter around the building, and get the police to cover a five block radius!" Agent Whitney ordered.

Mulder stayed put as the FBI turned to exit the building. Then they stopped to wait for him.

"I want to search his apartment, first." Mulder insisted.

"He's long gone, Mr. Mulder," Agent Drummy pointed out, "There's officers in there right now! I just got a report they found no sign of him, but there were clothes strewn all over the bathroom floor."

Upon hearing that Mulder dashed for the stairs and ran up six flights, the two agents right behind him until they reached Betts' door. The cops were still looking for clues with flashlights in the living room, but Mulder dashed by them and searched for the bathroom. Agent Drummy flashed his light on the floor and saw the clothes, then Mulder directed him to flash it in the tub.

It was filled with dark water, which looked like blood at first, but the stains forming a yellow rim around the tub suggested to Mulder that it was,

"Iodine." he whispered.

He quietly crept over to it, waiting for some movement in the placid dark substance. He remained patient, but the 'put off' agents started to stir. In one frantic movement he picked up his hand to will them to freeze. It would only be a matter of time, and the moment he anticipated had come—when the water, rippled. Mulder quickly immersed both his hands in the dark water and grabbed from within the creature underneath. Drummy and Whitney captured a glimpse of it as it emerged only to pull Mulder's head in. Then Drummy quickly pulled Mulder by the waist.

Agent Whitney yelled, "We need help in here!"

Officers came and in the commotion they couldn't see what it was they were trying to subdue until Agent Drummy cocked his fist and punched it square on the chin. Everyone heard the assailant's jaw crack, and all in initial horror at the sight became tremendously relieved that it had lost consciousness. Each cop gripped a hold of the creature's extremity and the whites of their eyes could practically light the room itself. He did look like a monster stained with iodine, but it was definitely Betts. He was hauled, strapped to a stretcher, to the nearest FBI field office escorted with a convoy police cars.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-XX-

Scully still was undaunted by the reluctance of the Fearon's and hospital administrator. She entered her office to do a little more research in hopes of gathering more information to provide and instill confidence in the Fearon's that there was hope for Christian. She felt it in her bones that she had the power to help this child who could only exhibit how much life and hope he had in his big bright eyes.

She called Dr. Glass, and he suggested they meet some place beside the hospital to discuss the case. It was at his home, or a mansion rather. There was a tennis court beside a swimming pool that had a beautiful patio. He had dinner set up there. Scully made the long walk there, and felt too stupid to turn back after seeing him waiting for her. She felt lured into this, but Dr. Glass came running over before she made her move to retreat.

"Shall we, Dr. Scully, have dinner? We'll be out of their hair in no time."

No. I apologize. I don't want to intrude," she said.

"You're not intruding. My mother and her friends have their weekly dance lesson here, and this is what they do after an hour of the cha cha or the tango. So, we have an hour to eat before the party really begins."

This was such a change in scenery for her, after six long colorless years looking at the shabby hospital décor, and her unremarkable little house nestled in the middle of "nowhere" Virginia. She never thought that she could fit in to this kind of world, yet she was taking it as much as the exquisite meal that had been prepared for that night. She allowed herself to think briefly about how she deserved this little break. Dr. Glass was one of the top surgeons in the hospital and well-known in the mid-west region where he was originally from, which could explain to her his lavish surroundings. He was always called off to participate in seminars and emergency operations, yet he confided to her that,

"the pace in the city, the urgent nature of the surgeries I performed are things I choose to experience once in a while. I find myself feeling empty still. It's only when I'm home, I can feel close to…"

Scully attempted to complete his sentence, "she must've been the love of your life."

"She always will be, no matter what." He fondly admitted.


End file.
